


Servant of Evil

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: DreamNotFound Angst, King!George, M/M, Minor Character Death, Servant of Evil au, knight!dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:41:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27877022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Let hellfire consume me if that’s what must be done. I will gladly play the part so that you may shine, my sun.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 3
Kudos: 104





	Servant of Evil

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of "Servant of Evil"! Here is the link, and I highly recommend listening to this at least once before reading this fic.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpSuRD56bK4

_I am your loyal servant and you’re our country’s king._

_Us, pair of pitied sons burdened by our destiny._

_Let hellfire consume me if that’s what must be done._

_I will gladly play the part so that you may shine, my sun._

Dream stood with a straightened spine as another order passed through the throne room. Various guards were positioned on either side of the velvet carpet, but not him. He stood by the king’s right, his arms folded behind his back. To the king, he was a guard, and that he had no voice. His only duty was to protect him and serve as his sword and shield. No matter how unruly the king may be, his only responsibility was only to listen.

The king ordered for an advisor to be executed. The white-haired man was on his knees, his forehead pressed to the floor, begging for mercy. _I have a wife and kids_ , he said. _Please, spare me_. The king did not listen. With a wave of his hand, two guards from each side of the room stepped forward, spears and swords raised. The advisor was dragged out, kicking and flailing and still begging for mercy. As the poor man was taken to the dungeons, the doors closed shut with a heavy thump, and the room was plunged into silence.

“That was annoying,” said the king. The others may not have heard, but Dream has. The king turned to Dream with a bored expression. “Don’t you think so? Who is he to go kicking and screaming in my presence?”

Dream felt his stomach flutter. “If you think such, Your Majesty.”

_On the day the two of us were brought into this world._

_The bells gave their blessings to us both, a king and a knight._

_But for reasons that we were too young to understand._

_We were separated._

_I could no longer hold your hand._

_If the whole world plots to extinguish your light._

_If they find the need to make you break and cry._

_Don’t you worry, dear, I am right by your side._

_So just smile for me, it'll be alright._

They were alone. George had brought Dream to the palace’s private gardens. Kneeling down to a bush of roses, its petals as blue as sapphires, George reached out to pick one, only for a thorn to prick his fingers. He quickly retracted his hand, glaring at the bush with a pout. It was as if the bush were the source of all his problems.

Wordlessly, Dream reached out for the roses. A wonderful rose bloomed at the very top, blossoming like soft gemstones. He drew his sword with caution, and cut through the thorny stem and shaved the thorns off. Holding the flower with two fingers, he presented it to his king, who stared at him with wide eyes.

George took the rose with a childish giggle. “For someone who doesn’t show his face, you’re actually pretty charming.”

Under his helmet, Dream choked on air, but he played it off. Heat rushed to his face, but he needed to remain calm. It was his responsibility to serve the king, after all. The king only deserved the best of him. “Thank you, your majesty.”

_I am your loyal servant and you’re our country’s king._

_Us, A pair of pitied sons burdened by our destiny._

_Let hellfire consume me if that’s what must be done._

_I will gladly play the part so that you may shine, my sun._

Dream felt his fists clench behind his back as he stood behind George. The king’s face was strained, his lips pressed into a firm line. In the palace, there were two messengers from different kingdoms. Two princes from different lands, yet their hands were conjoined, their eyes meeting each other with loving gazes. Faint blush dusted their cheeks as their faces were giddy with love. One prince wore a cyan robe, whilst the other wore black and red. They were the prince of gemstones and the prince of life.

George watched from a distance, his face twisting into one of pure jealousy. George saw green when he glared at the prince in black. When the cyan prince cupped the dark prince’s cheeks and brought their faces together, George had seen enough. He stormed back to his room and slammed the door behind him.

Dream did not follow. He knew how he was like, but he can’t help but bite his lip as he set a strained gaze at the prince in cyan.

The very next hour, George had called his new advisor to the court, alone. Dream wasn’t to listen in, so he stood outside the throne room, standing by with the other guards. From outside, they couldn’t hear what the king and his advisor was saying. But only moments later, the doors swung wide open, and Dream was called back in.

As he made his way towards his usual spot by the king’s side, he noticed the usual bored glint in George’s eyes light up with another spark of insanity. Dream bit his lip and kept his mouth shut.

In a future where they no longer existed, they would be sung as the villains in the wrong side of history, for George had called a massacre on the land of life.

_While running errands in the country to the east._

_I ran into a fair man with eyes of deep green._

_His smile and his voice, to me, were sent from up above._

_Something moved in my chest._

_You might even call it love._

Dream strolled through town without his helmet. Without his armor and sword, he was just another citizen in the country of evil. It’s been a while since he was out of the palace. Serving the king was a fulltime job, and he wouldn’t give it up for the world. It was his responsibility, but he worried about such even out of his armor. Would the king be okay? will he be comfortable with guards other than him? Would he talk to them like how he would talk to Dream? Such concerns surpassed the boundaries of a knight, but he found no reason to think so.

He checked the list in his hands, written on parchment. Bread was the only thing he needed, and the bakery’s only around the corner. Dream looked up to the sky. The sun was setting, the sky dyed a gentle orange like flames at a fireplace. He should be able to make it in time if he sped up.

Legs breaking into a sprint, he followed the town’s familiar paths and made his way towards the baker’s. If he was lucky, then he would leave home with at least a fresh loaf of bread for tomorrow’s breakfast. However, in his hurry, his eyes didn’t catch the figure emerging from an alleyway on his right. It was only when the figure released a cry of surprise that Dream realized, and his body collided with someone smaller than him, causing the latter to fall backwards.

Dream’s eyes widened in shock. He whipped towards the fallen figure, his hand outstretched. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The hooded figure rubbed his back and shook dust from his face. His hood fell off in a swift motion, revealing caramel locks underneath. He took Dream’s hand and hauled himself up. Groceries littered across the ground in a mess. “Don’t worry!” he said lightheartedly, smiling despite his fall. “I’m fine. A bit surprised, but I’m perfectly alright.”

Dream breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s great, then.” He looked around. “Come on. I’ll help you pick your things up – it’s the least I can do after knocking you over.”

The figure nodded gratefully. “That sounds great. Thanks a bunch.”

Dream’s heart skipped a beat as he felt the stranger smile at him. His face began to burn. He’d only felt this way when George talked to him, so why was he feeling this now? Maybe it’s because he was so sweet towards him, or maybe it’s because he was kind to him whereas George only treated him as another piece on a chessboard.

“No problem,” he croaked, crouching down and putting all the items in his basket.

When they were done, the sky had turned dark. There was no way he could get some fresh bread now. He’d have to wait until tomorrow. He sighed to himself, cursing his incompetency, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. The figure was tilting his head, holding a list in his hand.

“This is yours, right?” he asked, handing the parchment to Dream, but he wasn’t done. “I saw you had one last thing you needed to get. Is it bread?” He dug into his basket. “If you don’t mind, I have a fresh loaf that I baked myself. It’s the least I can do after you helped me pick my things up.”

Dream held his hands up in surprise. “Wait, no, it was my fault to begin with. You don’t have to—” He was rendered speechless as the shorter male held out a wrapped loaf for him, held together with string.

“You can have it. It’s extra and I think Skeppy’s getting sick of eating the same thing every morning anyway,” the man insisted. “Consider it a gift, then. The baker wasn’t even open today.” His eyes clouded over with sadness. “The baker’s husband was recently executed. I haven’t known him for long, but he seemed like a good man. I wonder what he’d done wrong.”

 _He did nothing wrong_ , Dream wanted to say, especially noticing his crestfallen face. But what good would it do? His priority was the king’s safety and happiness. “May God have mercy on his soul.”

The brunet nodded, smiling bitterly. “I don’t believe in god, but I do wish that his next life would be full of happiness.” He pushed the loaf of bread into Dream’s hands, still persisting that he takes the baked good. “Take it. It’s not much, but at least I can help you complete your list. I can always make more if I need to.” When Dream finally accepted it, his bright smile returned to his face. “Skeppy’s waiting for me, so I can’t talk anymore. You’re a great person, by the way. I wouldn’t mind if we were friends.”

Dream’s palms were slick with sweat. His throat constricted so much that his voice turned high and reedy. “I wouldn’t mind, either,” he forced out, managing to sound normal. “I’ll see you around?”

The man waved goodbye. “I’ll see you around.” He left, and he was soon joined by a tanned man in bright blue. When they walked under a lamp, it was only then Dream recognized who they were, and the identity of the man he grew attached to.

The loaf bread was dropped to the ground.

Oh no.

_But we know all good things must come to an end._

_It is my king’s orders the man must repent._

_I will grant your wishes if that's all I live for._

_So then tell me, my sun just what caused these rains to pour._

Dream tried to hold his tears back as he pressed his back on the brick wall, clothes warm and moist. Hand pressed to his mouth, keeping his sobs and chokes down, he clenched the bloody dagger closer to him so the person behind the wall wouldn’t notice.

He was haunted by the face that the man had made when he plunged the dagger into his chest. It was one of fear, disbelief and sadness that someone he’d befriended was the one that would be the one to take his life. Dream had lowered his body to the ground, apologizing as his eyes closed shut. _I’m sorry, but I must obey the king_. Anything for George – even if it meant killing someone whom he found a friend in.

Skeppy cradled Bad’s lifeless body in his arms, a guttural scream tearing through the night. The warm and gentle hand he used to hold was now limp and cold.

_I am your loyal servant and you’re our country’s queen._

_Us, a pair of cursed sons bound to bloody destiny._

_“Your highness, brioche_

_Will accompany your tea.”_

_And you clapped your hands with glee, so innocent and sweet._

“You look down. Did something bad happen?”

Dream turned to George in surprise. The king was holding a cup of tea, his brow raised as he looked at his personal guard with a suspicious face.

“I… beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

George snorted. “I don’t need to see your face to know that you’re down in the dumps,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Did something happen? You are my personal knight, after all. I don’t want you quitting because you’re feeling down.”

Dream’s mind went blank. He was usually quick-witted, but when it came to George, he was a complete mess. It was like his common sense was thrown out the window the moment George came into his life.

“Nothing happened, Your Majesty.” Dream’s voice cracked and he knew George heard it too. This was the first time he saw George asking for someone else’s well-being, especially when he’d served him ever since they were children. They’d grown up together ever since George was old enough to walk. “Thank you for your concern.”

George scoffed and turned back to his tea. A servant laid a tray of brioche in front of him and left without so much of a word.

“Ah.” George smiled to himself. “It’s teatime.”

_It appears that soon this country will meet its fate._

_Torn to pieces by its people crumbled under their hate._

_The masses claim that justice will be brought on us today._

_But I won’t see it through, they will not get their way._

The war was led against the kingdom of evil. Its oppressed citizens have finally reached their breaking point to lead a revolution against the tyrant. Wielding pitchforks and torches, they began to storm the castle, with a man in blue at front leading them to battle. The soldiers were too tired from the violent war and had no energy to raise their swords. The servants fled the palace as soon as they broke through the doors. The king of evil was left alone by his throne, with no one to serve him but the platter of doom.

The warrior in wore a scarf as he charged into a battle. Its fabric was black with a lining of red. Led by his vengeance for his fallen lover, he roared as he rose his sword, commanding the citizens to storm the palace where the root of evil began.

George’s reign has fallen, his own doom weaved by his own hands.

_“Listen now, my dear, give your life to me._

_I will find time and you must flee._

_You will be okay, I love you, don’t you see?_

_They won’t hurt you, now dear, don’t look back and just leave.”_

Dream stepped into the throne room as the cries outside gradually grew louder. He stood at the foot of the throne, his hands still folded behind his back, remaining in the same pose he would have when he served George. George now sat on the throne, but he no longer had any power. He stared at Dream, his gaze no longer judgmental. He was lost, as if he’d never foreseen this day coming in his life.

“Have you come to kill me?” he rasped.

Dream shook his head. He raised his hands, and clasped both sides of his helmet. “No,” he said somberly, removing his helmet. “I will fight them and buy you as much time as I can.” The helmet dropped to the ground in clatters, rolling by his feet. “The sewers are empty. You can escape from there.”

The door to the throne room boomed. Its hinges wailed. Dream drew his sword as George rose to his feet, alarmed.

“Why are you helping me?” he demanded, face contorting to confusion. “You should’ve killed me. You should be on their side.”

Dream turned to him with a helpless smile. He realized that he didn’t become the king’s personal guard for his honor. He didn’t follow his orders because it was responsibility. It was because—

“Because I love you.”

The doors barged open but there was no king. There was only one single knight, his sword raised towards the bloodthirsty mob.

_If the day comes that we are reborn once again,_

_I’d like to see you again, so I’ll wait for you ‘til then._

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**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a ship fic. I'm not gonna lie, it feels weird. I personally do not ship anyone, and this is only for practice.


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